Never
by landslide-state-of-mind
Summary: A story about Santana's first love. Mention of Brittana but Quinntana all over. Super angsty I guess.


_Sometimes stories come to me at the most inopportune times. This one came to me after my work got evacuated when an exhaust fan blew up. I had two hours with nothing to do, and an open cafe across the street, so I sat down and typed it all on my teeny tiny phone keyboard until the firemen told us we could go back inside._

* * *

People would be forgiven for thinking that Brittany was Santana's first love. God knows it wasn't Puck, regardless of how many times they jumped in the sack. It wasn't Brittany though, because she only met Brittany in freshman year, and she suspected she might be gay long before that.

It had been Quinn first, a whole different blonde, with her classically stunning looks and eyes that gave every single emotion away no matter how hard she tried. The summer between middle school and high school, they'd been pretty much inseparable. Santana could just stare at her all day. She had fought against the feeling that stirred in the pit of her stomach when Quinn looked at her, smiled at her for weeks.

But then she couldn't any more.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the night it changed. It was just after dinner and Quinn's mother had just gone into the den with another martini and her dad hadn't even made it to dinner. Quinn and Santana took their iced tea to the back porch and sat on the steps in the sticky evening heat. Santana could see the way the heat was making Quinn's hair stick to the back of her neck, and instinctively she lifted the blonde ponytail and rolled her cold glass along the back of her neck.

"God that feels good," Quinn said, the breathiness of her voice making Santana blush and pull away.

Quinn turned to her, and saw her determinedly looking away. "What's wrong, San?"

"Nothing," she said, meeting her gaze. "It's just... You're seriously beautiful, you know that, right?"

Quinn did know that, it had been something people said to her ever since she was little. It kind of pissed her off when everyone said it, because she knew that none of them were interested in what she was apart from pretty. But the way Santana said it, now that was different. Because Santana also told her how smart she was, how much fun she was, she never laughed at her poetry, she didn't even have to be saying anything and she felt like the most important person in the room.

Quinn leaned back into the Latina, who was sitting a step above her and to the side, and sighed as Santana's fingers undid her ponytail and gently massaged her scalp. She closed her eyes and Santana began to sing quietly.

"You should sing more," Quinn said drowsily. "Your voice is beautiful."

"I don't like giving people a reason to stare at me," Santana said. "People will talk."

"And say what?"

"They could say a whole lot of things," she said off-handedly. "And none of them would know a damn thing about me."

"That's okay," Quinn said. "Because I know about you."

"And for me, that's enough." Santana's hands dropped to Quinn's shoulders, and Quinn reached up and interlocked their fingers. Santana brought their joined hands to her lips and kissed the back of Quinn's hand. Quinn just fidgeted for a moment before she turned and pulled Santana down and brushed a kiss against her lips.

"Sorry," she said almost immediately. "It's just-"

"Don't ever be sorry for kissing me," Santana replied. "Not now, not ever." She moved onto Quinn's step and pulled the blonde into her arms.

"Does that mean you wouldn't mind if I kissed you again?"

"I'll never mind," Santana said. "Never."

"Good," Quinn said.

The last few weeks of their summer had involved stolen kisses in secluded parks, darkened movie theatres and all over Quinn's house, since her dad was never home and her mother was never paying attention. Santana's heart had gone from longing to full to the point of bursting whenever the blonde's fingers brushed her skin. And Quinn had never felt so loved before, not from her parents, not from anyone. The week before school went back, Quinn's father decided to get unnaturally paternal.

"Now, Quinnie," he said, "Now that you're going off to high school, you have to make sure you don't get caught up with the wrong kind of boys. Most of them are only going to want your body, but you hold out for a boy who treats you properly and has nice manners. Someone who makes you feel special."

"Who said anything about boys?" Quinn said, thinking about Santana, who was the only person who made her feel special at all.

"That's my girl," he said. "You don't need a boy to be happy."

And Quinn understood at that moment that a boy was the only option to her father. Her heart sank. Because even though her dad tried to be nice, he was the most terrifying thing in Quinn's world. She knew why her mother drank so much, why she tried to have Quinn in bed before he got home. She heard things at night that she couldn't unhear no matter how much she wanted to.

And Santana would not be welcome in his house the way Quinn needed her to be welcome. Because they could pretend they were just friends, but she knew she was getting to a point where she wasn't going to be able to keep it to herself any more. And she knew what would happen if she came home one day and told him that she didn't need a boy because she had Santana.

It seemed fitting that the summer sky chose that exact moment to erupt with a massive storm, because it was exactly how she felt.

She met Santana on the Lopez's back porch, and for the first few moments Santana thought her cheeks were wet from the rain, but the way the blonde sobbed through her words meant otherwise.

"Quinn, what's wrong?" Santana asked, pushing rain-dampened hair from her face. "Come inside." Quinn shook her head.

"You won't want me to," she said, "Not after this. It's just... This summer has been the best summer of my life. And it's you, Santana, it's always been you. But I was talking to my dad tonight and he expects me to go to school and find a nice boy, and that means that me and you..." Santana stiffened.

"What about me and you?" she said. "Is this where you tell me that you can't? Or is it that you won't?"

"God I want to," Quinn sighed. "But I can see what his face would look like if I walked in one day and told him you were my girlfriend. And I know what he's capable of, Santana so I can't-"

"Are you saying Russell hits you?" A cold look flashed across her face.

"Not me," Quinn said. Santana just pulled her in close. "I swear he doesn't hit me San."

"But he hits your mom?" Quinn just nodded into the crook of Santana's neck, thinking how unfair this was, to have to be terrified that the one person who made her feel safe and happy would be unacceptable to her dad. "And you think if you told him about this, me and you, he'd get mad?"

"I know he would," Quinn said. "And I'm scared, which is stupid because he's my dad, but still..."

"This sucks," Santana said. "Because I don't think I could ever be as happy with anyone else as I am with you. But more than anything in the world, Quinn, I need you to be safe and happy. So we can stop, as long as you promise me that if a time comes where you need to get help or get out, you come to me. Because I swear to god, if anyone hurts you, I'll take them out and torch the ground they stand on."

"You will?"

"Say the word," Santana said. "I swear. So promise me. I won't let anyone hurt you, Quinn, never."

"I promise," Quinn said. "I can't believe you're being so cool about this. I feel like I'm dying."

"Me too, but like I said, it's better that you're okay." Santana pressed a kiss to the top of the blonde's head. Quinn pulled away and looked Santana in the eyes. She was crying, they both were, and Quinn couldn't help but kiss her just once more.

"This is so not what I want," Quinn said, "But I should go."

"Yeah," Santana said. "But Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"We're still friends, right? Because I can't not be your friend," Santana said.

"Of course we're still friends," Quinn said. "But I don't think I'm ever going to forget that we were more." She left Santana on the steps and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to turn around and go back.

Things relapsed back into friendship after a couple of weeks, not that it hurt either of them any less. They started school and made other friends, but the two of them were still inseparable. They sat next to each other in English and hung out at cheerleading practice together, and made a new friend named Brittany.

Santana would occasionally still text Quinn in the middle of the night and remind her of the promise she made, and Quinn would text back and say that she hadn't forgotten and thank you.

Then Quinn found Finn Hudson, the popular but good looking quarterback, dumb as doornails but he was just the kind of guy her dad would expect her to get involved with. And he was sweet in a nervous kind of way, but he wasn't Santana, and it bothered her a little. It bothered Santana too.

"Do you love him?" she asked Quinn one afternoon as they walked home from school together.

"You know I don't San," Quinn said.

"Is it about your dad then?" she asked.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Finn's nice and everything, but you know… Are you mad?"

"I could never be mad at you," Santana said. "It just feels weird." And she wasn't mad, really, it was more of a disappointed feeling. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I won't San," Quinn said, taking her hand and swinging it lightly.

But that didn't last because something stupid happened, and it was Quinn getting knocked up by Puck, not Finn. Santana didn't know why, but now it made her mad. Because Quinn's dad might not like the idea of his daughter having a girlfriend, but he damn sure wouldn't be impressed with a pregnant daughter either. She couldn't help but feel like if Quinn was going to do something to piss her dad off, that thing should be her.

It hurt like hell that Quinn's dad was going to lose it over some stupid boy that meant nothing and she couldn't protect her from that, because just looking at her made her sick to her stomach. Because some guy she didn't love got to hold her and kiss her and Santana could only stand by and try to convince herself that it didn't matter. But it mattered, and it mattered just as much when her parents did kick her out and she broke her promise and didn't call Santana for help.

That's when things got bad, and they got really bad. Quinn tried to talk to her, but she could never find the words to apologize, and they'd just end up staring at each other until one of them cried or left, normally both. Quinn hated that she'd hurt Santana like that, and Santana hated that she couldn't just tell her to come home with her, and that she'd protect her.

Santana had nowhere else to turn except for Brittany. She didn't ask questions about how she was feeling, and she had this way of making everything feel lighter for her. Brittany was never reluctant to tell Santana how she felt about her, saying that she was beautiful, and sassy, and strong, and to Santana it sounded just like everything she'd imagined from a girlfriend. So when Brittany kissed her, she kissed her back.

Quinn supposed she didn't have any right to be jealous of Brittany, but she couldn't deny the fact that seeing that other blonde head bent low to Santana's made her stomach twinge. She knew it was her fault, because she was too scared of her dad to admit she loved Santana, and now she was too ashamed of herself to apologize to the Latina for what she'd done. She daydreamed her way through weeks and months, terrorizing herself with images of what it would be like if she'd just been with Santana all this time. And then she decided that walking away from Santana, and the rest of their friends was going to hurt way less than hours of self anguish. The summer between junior and senior year, she disappeared.

Santana had never expected Quinn to walk away all together. She felt like a huge part of her wasn't there any more. And they hadn't even been friends, really, for a while, but every now and then she could look at Quinn across the choir room, and Quinn would look back and she could pretend for an instant that they were okay. But senior year started and Santana couldn't believe what had happened to Quinn. The hair wasn't even the problem, the piercing, the smoking… It was the attitude. She'd just given up. And it broke her heart, into a million pieces. She couldn't just watch her friend give up on everything she loved about her life.

"Quinn," she said to her through a chain link fence. "What are you doing?"

"What does it matter?" Quinn breathed. She tried to walk away but Santana followed her to a quiet spot underneath the bleachers.

"Because you matter," Santana said. "What happened to you? You've stopped singing, you've stopped writing, you're not in Cheerios or Glee, you don't hang out with us any more." Quinn just patted her pockets looking for a lighter for the cigarette dangling between her lips.

"And?" she said, flicking the lighter.

"And I miss you," Santana said urgently. She pulled Quinn's hand away from her mouth. "Dammit Quinn. This isn't you."

"Like you know me any more," Quinn said. That hurt Santana more than she liked, because it was true. Her hand brushed Quinn's cheek and turned her face to meet her own.

"Maybe I don't," Santana said. "But don't think that makes me love you any less, Quinn." Tears formed a glassy sheen over Quinn's eyeliner laden eyes.

"Do you really love me, though?" she asked.

"You know I do," Santana said. "You know I have since – it's always been you."

"But you have Brittany," Quinn said. "And you two are easy and happy and I can't do that to you. So even though it's good to hear that Santana, it's not enough." Santana just kissed her hard until Quinn pulled herself off and walked away.

Brittany found her on the floor in the girls locker room, crying her guts out. She dropped to the floor beside her. "Hey."

"Hey."

"This is about Quinn, isn't it?" she said.

"How would you possibly know that?" Santana said.

"Because I get it," Brittany said "You love her. I've seen the way you two look at each other."

"Don't be silly, Britt."

"No, it's okay," Brittany said. "We're having fun, me and you, but you two, for years, it's almost like the air is on fire. And I think that seeing her like this probably hurts like a bitch. For you."

"Britt, just so you know, I didn't want to hurt you or use you," Santana said.

"Who's hurt?" Brittany said. "I had no problem being the distraction. But I think the two of you really need to sit down and talk some stuff out. I don't know, it feels like there's a lot more to you guys than either of you talk about."

"Jesus I wish everything was easy as things are between us," Santana said.

"You'll be okay," Britt said. "You're tough. And Quinn will come around."

"I don't know, Britt, she's pretty far gone."

"Yeah, she is… But I know you. You'll go in after her," Britt said. She kissed Santana's temple and pulled her to her feet. Santana hugged her, letting her head rest on the blonde's shoulder.

"Thanks, Britt. And I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Brittany said. "I'm fine." She wiped some running mascara from Santana's cheeks and they took a side door out of the building.

Quinn was smoking on her back step when she heard noises at the side gate. She quickly snubbed the cigarette out and peered into the semi-darkness.

"Who's there?"

"Me," came a voice. And then a body in a cheerleader's uniform dropped over the gate. "You didn't answer the door but your car's here and the lights are on."

"What do you want, Brittany?"

"I want to talk to you," Brittany said. "About Santana."

"I don't really have anything to say on that subject."

"Bullshit," Brittany said. "Because this afternoon I found her on the floor in the locker room crying her heart out. And I sure as hell had nothing to do with it. So it had to have been you."

"Britt-"

"Save it," Brittany said. "I know you two have this thing. I don't know what it is, but it's scary intense. She was never going to love me the way she loves you, Quinn. I knew that before we started. She didn't take advantage of me, didn't ever promise me anything she couldn't deliver."

"And how is that relevant to me, exactly?" she said sarcastically.

"I gotta say, even though you're hot, I don't see it. I don't see why San's still in love with you, because the way you're acting and the way you speak to people is a joke," Brittany said. "Shitty stuff happens to a lot of people, but not all of them turn into assholes like you have."

"I don't really need a lecture about my attitude, Brittany."

"Seems to me like you do," Brittany said. "Because for some reason, Santana still loves you. Seeing you screw yourself over like this hurts her in a big way. And you might appreciate the self-loathing drama of it all, but I don't appreciate you hurting someone I care about. This woe-is-me, self indulgent bullshit is killing her and it's not doing you any favors either."

"Is that all?" Quinn said softly.

"Do you love her?"

"What?" Brittany stood squarely in front of her and looked her in the eye.

"You heard me, Fabray. Do you love her?" Quinn struggled to hold her gaze.

"I've never not loved her," she whispered. "Never."

"Then for once in your life, do something right and go tell her that," Brittany said. "And then quit smoking. It reeks, and it's just plain stupid." The blonde left her without saying another word, unlocking the gate she had jumped previously. Quinn looked down at the cigarette in her hand. It did stink. She sighed and went inside.

The next day, Santana looked for Quinn all over school, and couldn't find her. Brittany tried to reassure her, and tell her that she was sure the girl was fine, but Santana wasn't convinced. She knew Quinn was in a bad place, knew that if she wasn't at school she was probably doing something dumb. She drove past Quinn's house on the way home from school, and she wasn't there either. She couldn't text the girl again, there was no point, so she drove home.

Quinn's car was sitting out the front of her house. Neither of her parents were home, and Quinn wasn't in the car, so she went around back to see if she'd fallen back into old habits and jumped her gate to wait on the back patio.

There she was.

The patchy, bizarre looking pink streaks were gone, the nose ring too, and the black was replaced by pastel and white. Quinn.

"Hey," Santana said.

"Hey," Quinn replied. "I'm glad you're here." She gestured for the brunette to sit next to her.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn winced slightly.

"I know I have no right to be here," Quinn began. "But Brittany came to see me yesterday. And I learned a few things."

"Such as?"

"One, don't piss Brittany off. Because, wow. Two, smoking is stupid. And three, which is last because I can't figure out how this is going to work – I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Not going to make it easy, are you?" Quinn said. "Where do I start? Not having the balls to tell my dad I was in love with you years ago, hooking up with Finn, hooking up with Puck, not coming to you when I promised I would, not telling you I was completely screwed up with the Beth thing, for letting you think I didn't love you enough to want to be with you at school, for Sam, for Finn again, for being a bitch when you and Britt got together, for disappearing over the summer, for being an asshole, for-"

"That's enough," Santana said.

"But I'm not done."

"Yeah you are," Santana replied. "I think both of us have enough sorry for the next lifetime. So can we just stop rehashing the worst things we ever did to each other?"

"I lied," Quinn said. "I have a number four."

"And what's that?"

"Number four, I realized that even when I pretended I hated you, there was no single point over the last few years where I didn't love you."

"You know I never stopped loving you," Santana said, stepping closer to the blonde. Quinn took her hand and pulled her closer.

"Never?" Santana just kissed her softly, the same flutter spreading through her chest as all those years ago. She cupped Quinn's chin in her hands and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"Never," she said firmly. "And I never will."


End file.
